


'tis the damn season.

by ghostcafes (kooscafe)



Series: kiss me on the mouth & set me free. [2]
Category: Julie and The Phantoms (TV), Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Morning, Christmas Presents, M/M, its basically just christmas!, no beta yet again.. oops, no smut! sorry lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28097721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kooscafe/pseuds/ghostcafes
Summary: It's Christmas in Riverdale, and Luke Patterson is determined to make this a good one.Or, a collection of Christmas-themed scenes from December, two years after Luke and Archie get together (featuring Jughead and Reggie).
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Luke Patterson (Julie and The Phantoms), Jughead Jones/Reggie Peters
Series: kiss me on the mouth & set me free. [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2058474
Kudos: 8





	'tis the damn season.

**Author's Note:**

> hi<3 i honestly didn't expect to make a continuation of any sort to my lukearchie fic, but once i stepped foot into that crossover universe, i couldn't pull myself out! so here's a compilation of scenes (that sort of have an overall plot, but very loosely?) that are holiday-themed for lukearchie (and jugreggie, the babies)<3 enjoy!

Holidays are a time of cheer, and love, and _family_ , and that’s why it’s both the best and worst time of year for Luke Patterson. 

It was nearly Christmas when the boy finally ran away from home, leaving the lit tree and stockings and parents behind tearfully and never looking back. A pain such as that leaves behind a burning sensation forever, and yet with the years that pass (four, now, with this month), it dulls. With the love that grows for those in his life, his _found_ family, it lessens.

Which is why Luke finds himself, hand in hand with a rambling Reggie Peters, eyes focused and worrying over all the possible gift options present to them at the bustling city store. Riverdale was too small for the magnitude of gift he needed to get-- it needed to be _perfect_ , for his perfectly imperfect love. Hence why they took a road trip to New York, courtesy of Veronica, who clambered for any excuse to go back to her beloved city.

“Oh! _Oh_ , Luke, look--” Reggie gasps, eyes widening as they pass by a bookstore and immediately, Luke can tell what his best friend is thinking of. A grin creeps onto his face as he sees the other’s big, pouty eyes, and he nods excitedly. No less had been expected but the perfect gift from Reggie to the writer with how well they knew each other-- a fact that Luke envied, at first, a little afraid his best friend would replace him. Thankfully, all that actually happened was an expansion of their family, and Luke gaining a brother in the cynical boy.

“Bub, that’s _perfect_ , Jug’s gonna love it--” 

“Are you sure? I want it to be perfect for Juggie--” Biting his lip, the bassist presses his palm to the display glass with a nervous sigh.

Rolling his eyes, Luke tugs him into the store, shaking his head. “He’s gonna love it ‘cause it’s from _you_ , and he loves you, Reg, baby. It helps that he’s been talking about getting one of these for a hot minute, too.” Stretching out his neck, the Patterson Charm is activated as he spots a salesperson. 

“Now, let me charm our way into getting you a fat discount.”

On the opposite side of the shopping strip, in the parking lot, one Jughead Jones worried at his bottom lip, mind scanning memories of the stores to no avail. It was starting to worry him greatly, but at least Archie had found the perfect gift for his beau of two years-- which made the writer all the more anxious to not have one yet.

“Honestly, Jug, Reggie’s so gone for you, man,” Archie chuckles, closing the trunk of their Uber and looking at his friend with an exasperated sigh. “Whatever you get him, he’ll love. But if you can’t think of something physical, since you got him the bass last year, maybe do something emotional--”

“Like what?” Jughead struggles, mind racing.

“Like-- write him something. I don’t know. Reggie loves your writing--”

It clicks, all at once, and it barely takes another second before the serpent is wrapping his arms around his best friend, grinning ear to ear.

If he could pull this off, maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be a mess, after all.

❆

Freezing nights were commonplace in Riverdale winters, but luckily for Luke, Archie Andrews qualified as his very own hunky heater. The thought made his smile grow impossibly wider, as he shoved his mitten-clad hands into Archie’s coat pockets from behind (prompting the boy to stick his hands in, too, to hold them), leaning against him and resting his chin resting in the crook of his lover’s neck, singing along to the holiday carol with ease.

Caroling had been Betty’s idea, and where the golden girl went, so followed her ravenette girlfriend and fox-locked best friend. Unfortunately (or fortunately, as Archie would rather say) for Luke, he happened to be insufferably in love with said ginger, and so there he stood, in a snowfall that would chill the residents to the bone, going door-to-door caroling just to accompany his boyfriend. 

_“Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la, la la la la,”_ Luke sang diligently, voice smooth and breathtaking and he feels Archie’s gaze on his face, admiring and filled with love and suddenly the lead singer’s uncharacteristically shy, grin curling in an embarrassed fashion.

“Stop staring, loverboy,” the brunette mutters underneath his breath, before resuming his contribution and feeling his body shake as Archie laughed.

“How can I when you’re so gorgeous? And all mine?” Whispered are the words, only just loud enough for Luke to hear, and his heart skips a beat at the statement. _Damn it, Archie_ , he thinks, blush high on his cheeks (which he would blame on the frigid air, if asked).

Chilly nights and relentless teasing all seem worth it near midnight, when Luke finally gets to kiss his Archie, long and hard and _warm_ , under the gentle fall of snow that melts on their cold skin.

❆

Tree farms weren’t the most romantic place in the world, but in Reggie’s mind, it was date-worthy. Maybe it was simply because he got to be here with his Jughead, or the twinkling of the Christmas lights that lit their path down the line of trees, or the way the other serpent’s hand was so _warm_ in his own mitted one.

Regardless, this was _romance_ , and Reggie refused to complain.

Doesn’t mean Jughead was above that, though.

“ _Baby_ , _buggie_ ,” Jug starts, eyebrow raised and amusement in his voice. “Do we have to look at every single tree? I mean, aren’t they the same? Can’t we just get the smallest one so it fits in the trailer--”

Silencing him with a quick peck, Reggie glares at his cynical boyfriend. “ _No_ , we absolutely _cannot_. It’s about the principal of it, Juggie, and I want a perfect tree. It needs to call to me or something, y’know?”

“What I _know_ is that it’s like twenty degrees, bug. Can’t we just pick one, go home and cuddle up by the fire?” Mischief in his gaze and smirk on his lips, Jughead leans in, hot breath pressing against his love’s ear. “You, me, hot cocoa, maybe other ways to warm up--”

“ _Oh_ ,” Reggie lets out, breath shaky, and eyes wide as saucers. It doesn’t take another second before he’s calling Toni over, urging her to show him the smallest trees, and hauling it over to their dingy car in an unexpected rush. He’s flushed, and flustered, and _god_ , he’s so cute Jughead’s heart squeezes so tightly he fears it might burst.

Rushing is totally worth it in the end, and Reggie can’t complain about their small tree (only reaching around six feet) when he spends the night drinking warm cocoa and then swallowing down Jughead’s even _warmer_ moans.

❆

Maybe pulling nearly the entire family together in the cramped closeness of their trailer to decorate their modest Christmas tree wasn’t the smartest idea Luke had ever had.

“Alex Mercer, so help me God, if you don’t put that candy cane back onto the tree--” Julie threatens, eyes narrowing from her position on the opposite side of the tree, side pressed against Luke as he reaches up to put another ornament near the top of the tree.

“We have like fifty of them, Jules, we can spare just one,” Alex snaps back, petulantly unwrapping the cane and shoving it into his mouth, before slipping Willie another one and sticking his tongue out.

“You--!” She huffs, busying herself by grabbing the next ornament Flynn hands to her with a kiss to her cheek. It calms her a little, and Luke can’t help but giggle at the sight, which earns him a pinch to his side from his boyfriend, who’s pressed against the other wall, decorating the backside of the tree. Archie’s in this soft knit sweater, and he looks so warm and he’s smiling so wide and Luke’s poor heart thumps out of control, off-beat from the holiday classics blaring through the speakers. He’s so beautiful, devastatingly so, and the pressure of Luke’s upcoming gift weighs on him particularly heavy. If that went wrong, well--

With a breath and a shake of his head, Luke grounds himself and curves his body around the tree, planting a soft kiss to Archie’s lips. Time to worry about that could come later (and it would, if the churn of his stomach was anything to go by-- but he’d blame that on the botched eggnog, for now).

For now, he’d watch his favorite people bicker and squabble about the delicate placements of their hand-me-down ornaments (including a few custom ones Flynn created, featuring a rhinestone serpent plush). Anxieties bubbling under the surface of his skin making him itch would be ignored, to the best of his abilities.

When all is said and done, and Luke’s curled up in Archie’s arms by the tree, the boy’s fingers running through his hair and his eyes lazily lit with love and _warmth_ , with his family all cuddled up in their respective corners, he finally thinks he knows the peace people sing of during the holiday time.

❆

In retrospect, it was a miracle they hadn’t burned the house down, with how much chaos and smoke filled the Andrews’ small kitchen on one chilly, snowed-in night. Archie had begged his doting boyfriend to join him in cooking gingerbread cookies (he was trying to be romantic, and cheesy, which Luke loved more than anything but would never admit), which then spiraled into Jughead and Reggie joining, and the quarter messily constructing cookies and gingerbread houses while Christmas music blared on the bluetooth speaker.

“ _Babe_ , fucking hell, that’s too much sugar--” Luke argued, eyes wide in disbelief and hands coming up to halt Archie’s pouring of nearly half the bag’s contents into the bowel. “You’re gonna give us _diabetes_ if you put that in!”

“And you want us to have weirdly unsweetened cookies, you _ass_ ,” the redhead grumbles, slipping in a little more sugar before the guitarist yelps and snatches the bag away from him.

“They’re gonna be as sweet as that ass of yours with the amount of vanilla we put in, we don’t need to drown it in sugar,” comes Luke’s smug remark, as Archie flicks flour at his face, causing the boy to gasp. “ _Oh_ , baby, you’re _on_ . This is _war_ you little shit--!”

Battle rages on for a rough fifteen minutes as they finish mixing the dough, before the pair slump against the counter, giggling and sharing flour-caked kisses, whining about how weird it tasted but not daring to separate lips for more than two seconds. Archie’s flour-covered palms traced the pattern of Luke’s abs, the brunette’s teeth nipping at his bottom lip before pulling away with a wink that sent the ginger’s heart into a race, no matter how long it had been since they got together.

“Let’s actually get the cookies in the oven, first.” Snickering, Luke starts rolling the dough, biceps rippling and all the sudden Archie’s warm eyes can’t tear themselves away, a blush spreading onto his cheeks as the guitarist catches him staring.

“Fucking _finally_ , hearing you guys make out for an eternity was grueling. Some of us are starving over here,” Jughead quips, his complaint silenced by a mouthful of gumdrops, courtesy of his bass-playing beau.

“That’s what the gumdrops and frosting is for,” Reggie whispers, as if it were some conspiracy and it’s so dramatic it makes the beanie-clad boy giggle, heart growing impossibly fonder. The bassist scoops up a glob of white frosting with his finger, wiggling his eyebrows at his boyfriend.

“It’s supposed to be for decorating the house, bug, but I’ll let you be half-right,” Jug smiles, before grabbing the boy’s finger and licking the frosting off quickly before he could react, laughing at the bewildered expression that overtakes his love’s face.

“Hey!” Reggie huffs, face scrunching up so adorably that Jughead can't help but lean over and place a sugary-sweet kiss to his pouting lips. When he pulls away, the boy’s expression is dopey, content, and it makes the serpent’s heart soar. “Okay, I forgive you,” the bassist settles, before shoving a gumdrop into his own awaiting mouth.

“You’d better, or you won't get anything from _Santa, baby_ ,” Jughead teases, abruptly singing along to the holiday classic that poured from the speaker. _“I’ve been an awful good boy, Santa baby, and hurry down the chimney tonight.”_ While the vocals were pitchy, and Reggie couldn’t stop laughing, the sound of his baby’s happiness simply spurred him further, pulling the boy in by his waist as he continued, ignoring the laughter of his other paired-off friends in their own bubble. _“Think of all the fun I’ve missed--”_

 _“Think of all the fellas I haven’t kissed,”_ Reggie cut in, voice smooth and angelic and lips pressing immediately to Jug’s with a barely-smothered giggle. 

It’s two in the morning, when everything is finally finished-- sloppy, ugly gingerbread houses barely standing (with scarcely any decorations, due to Reggie’s snacking) and burned, cavity-including gingerbread cookies being their prize for all their hard work. Everything tastes more than a little awful, and in the morning, they force their other friends to eat it as punishment for missing their night of holly jolly fun (Julie spits out the cookie, bits falling onto Luke’s face which caused bickering from the duo and uncontainable cackles from the rest of the group).

For now, though, they eat store-bought sugar cookies and curl up on the couch. Because it was about the quality time, Reggie sleepily reasons, curling closer around Jughead as the boy nuzzles deeper into his chest. On the recliner, Luke is on Archie’s lap, tucked in like a baby as they snore the night away.

 _I love them_ , is Reggie’s last thought, before he’s overtaken by a sugar-crash slumber.

❆

On the eve of Christmas, Archie finds himself pressed against the chilly window in a booth at Pop’s, his other side tucked into his boyfriend’s warm form. Across from him sat Jughead and Reggie, tossing fries into each other’s mouths and giggling at each catch or miss. In the booths next to theirs, the rest of their friends and family dined on turkey and deserts, courtesy of Pop Tate and Veronica’s cooking. Amidst the chaos of the dinner and laughter and bickering, the ginger boy finds Luke’s smile, beaming and lovely, eyes crinkling with the force of it and melodic laughter ringing forth.

In that moment, as Luke catches his gaze and huffs out a chuckle, Archie kisses him, soft and slow and tasting of the cranberry sauce he forced him to try. It’s achingly perfect, and as they ignore their friends’ feigned gags at the public affection, Archie can’t help but hope that this is his forever.

If there had to be a single Christmas miracle, Archie would wish for that.

❆

Snow blankets the town of Riverdale on Christmas morning, chilling the residents and prompting one Luke Patterson to tug the fleece blanket tighter around him, cold nose burying itself into the neck of his love, Archie Andrews. Said ginger boy groans, bare skin wriggling closer to the other guitarists own naked torso, sleepy and dazed and coming off of the eggnog-induced slumber that had overtaken them both after their drunken quickie, post-family gathering.

“Hmmm, baby.” Groggily, Luke’s fingers tighten their grip on Archie’s hips, body tensing and stretching out as his consciousness becomes more apparent. “Merry Christmas?” It’s muffled by his boyfriend’s skin, and laced with a bit of drool and morning breath, but the guitarist sees Archie sleepily smile and suddenly he doesn’t really care how gross he must look, even on such an important day.

 _Oh, fuck_ , Luke thinks, body suddenly on alert and eyes snapping open to the soft light that filled the room. Blinking blearily, his tired gaze finally lands on Archie, whose own gaze is soft and warm and _god_ , he’s so painfully in love that his stomach twists itself back into a knot all over again, as if he needed _any_ more nerves today.

Christmas morning reminds Luke of everything he’d been missing-- his mother, his father, his home back in Los Angeles. Christmas in Riverdale amplifies it ten-fold, and Luke can’t help but hold back tears as he recalls the lyrics to _River_ , because it _never_ snowed in LA, _it stayed pretty green_ , and yet in Riverdale it’s the perfect white Christmas and the contrast sends his heart stuttering into a near melancholy halt. But it doesn’t last for longer than a beat, because it’s also simultaneously reminding him of everything he _has_ \-- a _family_ made up of best friends, a home (physically and mentally), a career, a man he loves so much it feels like he’s suffocating when he looks at him too long. Archie knew him at his lowest, and highest, and everything in between-- had seen the worst of him, the anger and bitterness and spitefulness, and chose to _stay_ , and that’s something that not many people do.

“Merry Christmas, babe,” Archie mutters, voice rough from sleep and it shakes Luke back into the present moment. With a smirk, the brunette reaches up, lips finding the other’s and kissing him softly, disregarding the morning breath and only focusing on the feeling of Archie’s hands sliding up and down his back, roaming and scratching just a little, brushing against the bruises he’d left the night prior and making a pleasant ache shoot through him. He pulls away and Luke whines, nose rubbing against his boyfriend’s in protest. “We should get up. They’re probably waiting for us to open presents, baby.”

Relenting, Luke allows himself another minute to wallow in his own thoughts before slithering out of bed, a fleeting kiss pressed against Archie’s forehead as he passes by him to shuffle his way to the bathroom. After a quick brushing of the teeth and throwing on his matching pajamas (Reggie insisted, and Jughead enforced the suggestion under the threat of no kisses), Luke runs a hand through his ruffled hair, and swaps places with Archie-- the moment of solitude giving him a beat to take a breath, before he sees Alex’s head peek in, eyes filled with worry.

“Morning. You ready, bub?” Comes Alex’s soft voice, hand outstretched and Luke doesn’t let himself think twice before he nods, lacing their fingers together and letting himself get dragged into the living room, where their core family is cramped on the floor. Fuzzy-socked feet tuck themselves under his thick thighs as Luke settles himself against the wall by Julie, letting the girl hold his hand while Archie follows suit, body pressing in and head resting on the lead singer’s shoulder.

“Okay, okay, let’s get this Christmas started, shall we?” Willie giggles, eyebrow raised and hands clapping together to draw everyone’s attention.

And so the gift giving starts-- Julie’s custom headphones for Flynn, and Flynn’s custom jacket for Julie; Alex getting Willie a new skateboard, and Willie giving him a new pair of drumsticks. They don’t have much, but what they have is _love_ , and that’s what matters.

That’s proven further, when Jughead’s barely mentally recovering from unwrapping the new typewriter Reggie got him-- eyes filled with appreciative tears and mouth pressing hard against his boyfriend’s, before he sheepishly pushed his own box toward Reggie with a shy, _here you go, bug_.

As soon as the box is opened and Reggie reads the contents, Luke feels his heart tug painfully at the sight of his best friend crying so earnestly. It’s a calendar, custom written by Jughead himself, starting from this very day until the end of next year; every day you rip off reveals a new affirmation of love from him to Reggie. Beneath that, was a love letter, with words that remain between the lovers, but Luke could only imagine how sentimental it must have been to make Reggie sob like _that_.

Once the waters calm, the only two left are Archie and Luke, and Luke’s heart races as Archie hands him a massive, heavy box. Calloused hands tremble as they peel the paper off, and the tears that spring up in his eyes are unexpected at the sight-- a new electric guitar, bright cherry red and with the words _Ginger stallion_ engraved, a stupid joke about what Cheryl used to call Archie (and used when introducing them at that party so many years ago), but it just reminds Luke of how _far_ they’d come and he can’t help but let out a little half-sob, smile so wide it hurt his face.

“It’s fucking _perfect_ , Archie, baby--” Luke grins, eyes shinning and lips meeting his beau’s in a deep kiss, smiling into it.

And while the moment is perfect, it’s Luke’s turn, now, and he doesn’t let himself think twice about it before shaking hands give Archie the small, wrapped cube-shaped box.

It’s unwrapped in no time, and Luke watches as Archie’s eyes widen and his body goes into shock when he opens the box. The gleam of the silver band, set with a single diamond and engraved with their initials on the inside, somehow doesn’t shine as bright as the tears in Archie’s warm, brown eyes.

“Luke?” Voice cracking, the man gazes up at his lover, who had taken a knee in front of him, tears pouring down his cheeks and muddying them.

“Archie Andrews,” Luke starts, tone filled with so much love and dripping with it even as it shakes so violently he fears he’s being misunderstood. “Christmas time hasn’t always been easy for me. It brings back demons and ghosts and skeletons long buried in the cemetery of my life. But being with this family, with _you_ , has changed that. And every day this December, every day this year, it just kept dawning on me that I don’t think I could ever bear _not_ waking up to you every morning. Not seeing your smile, not feeling your kisses, hearing your voice-- I can’t _not_ be yours, because you’ve changed me so deeply that this person I am _is_ yours, in every way. My heart is _yours_ , and I couldn’t bear for you not to keep it _forever_. So--” An exhale so deep it almost hinges on a sob. “Will you marry me, baby?”

The crush of lips to his comes so suddenly, Luke almost doesn’t register the cry of “ _yes!”_ that leaves Archie’s lips before they’re kissing. Cries erupt from their family, and he vaguely feels the trailer tremble under the weight of their celebration, and yet none of that matters. Archie said _yes_ , and he’s going to be _his_. Forever. That’s a Christmas miracle if he’d ever heard of one.

It takes a while for them to calm down, for the ring to get slipped onto Archie’s ring finger, for Luke to stop shaking enough to re-tune his old guitar and sit back down, a near permanent grin still staying on his features.

“Uhm, I spent a lot of money on that ring--” Chuckling, Luke chews on his bottom lip, looking over at Archie’s hand before letting his eyes settle on the rest of his family again. “So I couldn’t really get you guys physical gifts this year. I hope this, uh, I hope this makes up for it.”

And so starts the strumming of a new song, guitar solo swallowing the noise in the room and Luke’s pitch-perfect voice ringing out in the most perfect harmony it could muster. _“This song’s the second best that I could do, when the perfect gift is you.”_

To say that Christmas morning ends in tears and Luke being wrapped in hugs, is an understatement. He’s nearly suffocating from the force of the hugs, tears all mixing and limbs tangled in a heap under the tree, but he wouldn’t dare have it any other way.

❆

A sorely out-of-place mistletoe hanging above Luke’s bed that night takes him by surprise, but when he turns to find his fiancé there ( _god_ , that felt so _good_ to say that Luke almost wanted to cry all over again) wearing a cheap Santa hat, the confusion turns to a smirk.

“Fancy meeting you here, _fiancé_ ,” Archie teases, kneeling on the bed and pulling Luke in by his waist, chests pressing together with a hum. 

“Mistletoe, hm? You know, you can just kiss me whenever--” Luke starts, voice reduced to a soft laugh as Archie starts to mouth his way up his neck with the tiniest kisses possible. “Considering we’ll be husbands soon, _fiancé_.”

“Not soon enough, babe.” Pouting, Archie presses a quick kiss to the other’s lips, intending to pull away until Luke nips at his bottom lip, tongue swiping and deepening the kiss with a sigh to bait the other man. 

Predictably, Archie falls for it, and falls under Luke once more-- moaning as Luke fucks him through an orgasm, trying to smother his noises with their mouths pressed together hotly, heating them thoroughly on such a cold winter’s night.

Afterward, when they’re tucked under the blankets and each other’s arms, Luke’s once grinch-like heart grows ten times in size at the words Archie whispers softly, just loud enough for him to hear:

“Merry Christmas, _fiancé.”_

 _Yeah,_ Luke thinks with a sleepy smile and a heart full of love. _Maybe Christmas isn’t so bad._


End file.
